


Coming Home

by shesimperfect_butshetries



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Season/Series 07 Speculation, Speculation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-28 01:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16230923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shesimperfect_butshetries/pseuds/shesimperfect_butshetries
Summary: This is a little something I started working on quite some time ago and just got around to finishing. I got the idea after the first teaser trailer was released, but with all of information on season 7 that is out now, I am quite sure this is not how the season will go. Either way, I thought someone might enjoy my take on how the Olicity reunion could have gone.Enjoy!Check out the notes at the end for an update on Above All Else





	Coming Home

Felicity picks up the last two mugs left on the table, dumping them in the bus cart. She whips the rag from over her shoulder, leaning down to scrub at the sticky brown coffee rings left on the worn wood.

The door to the café dings open and she glances over her shoulder, surprised to see John Diggle’s large form squeezing through the doorway. He is not the agent assigned to guard her today. Dropping her rag, she turns to face him more fully as he approaches her. The grim look on his face has her heart racing before he even opens his mouth to speak.

“Your shift is over,” he says by way of greeting.

“No, it’s not,” she replies, confusion lacing her voice. “I have two more hours left. It’s my last day and I didn’t have a chance to give them two weeks’ notice.  The least I can do is stay for my whole shift.”

“Felicity,” he sighs, “I know you’ve really grown fond of the people here, and I’m truly happy about that, but this is important. You need to come with me. Now.”

She mentally counts the days, making sure she had the date right, but her math is never wrong, and the big day is tomorrow. William is with a friend, and for now, he is the only person she has to worry about. Today is nothing more than her last day at the coffee shop.

“John, there can’t possibly be anything that important. William texted me to check in five minutes ago and…” she still can’t bring herself to say his name. “…and the other thing is not until tomorrow. See? Nothing pressing. What could possibly be happening that would warrant being called an emergen—”

“It’s Oliver.”

Her heart drops into her stomach at the sound of his name – her favorite name in the world – said in such a foreboding tone.

“What?” she whispers.

“Not here. Your shift needs to be over Felicity.”

She nods, too startled to reply and walks over to Sheryl, her boss to let her know she has to leave early. She thinks she mumbles something about a family emergency, but the panic that is taking over her body and mind is making it difficult to pay attention.

Felicity grabs her purse from beneath the counter and flies out the back door. John is already behind the wheel of a nondescript black sedan, waiting for her to get in. The moment the door slams, he has the car in drive.

It takes a full ten minutes before Felicity is able to find her words.

“Where are we going?”

“Slabside Maximum Security Prison.”

“John, what is going on?”

The older man sighs, glancing at her in pity before averting his eyes back to road. If possible, the smothering feeling on her chest grows more intense.

“I got a call from the prison. It was the medical ward. They were requesting Oliver Queen’s emergency contact come to the prison immediately. I’m his emergency contact, but…Felicity, I think you need to be there for this.”

He takes a deep breath, seemingly building up his nerve before continuing. “Oliver was attacked today, pretty brutally from what it sounds like.”

Her breath catches in her throat, the sense of dread increasingly tenfold. In less than twenty-four hours, John was going to pick her up, along with William, and take them on this exact drive to bring her husband home. After nearly four months without him, her work with the citizens of Star City had finally paid off. Oliver was granted a Presidential Pardon, with his release scheduled for tomorrow. One more day and he would be at home, safe with his family.

John’s voice startles her out of her thoughts. “Some of the prisoners apparently heard about the impending release and wanted to give him something to remember them by. He was ambushed, Felicity.”

Tears are streaming down her face as she asks the question she knows she doesn’t want the answer to. “How many?”

“Felicity, I don’t think that—”

“How many, John?”

“Fifteen,” is his solemn reply. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have much more information. They just said to come right away. I came to get you as soon as I got the call.

She can only nod in return, her sobs making it impossible to get out any words.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The remainder of the car ride passes in silence. Felicity sobs until she cries her self to sleep, the hum of the tires underneath her lulling her into a nightmare, not unlike her current reality.

Before she knows it, John is nudging her awake. Night has fallen, giving the large concrete building in front of her an ominous glow against the dark sky.

Inside, Slabside is, unfortunately, exactly how Felicity had pictured it: gray and dank and depressing. She can’t imagine Oliver, her warm, loving husband, living inside these gloomy halls.

Digg leads her to the entrance for the medical wing, and it’s there that they run into trouble. Just as John passes through the metal detector, Felicity is about to step through herself when a hand on her arm stops her.

“I’m sorry, Miss, but only authorized emergency contacts for the prisoners are allowed in the medical bay. Inmate 4587 only has one approved visitor, Mr. Diggle.”

Felicity’s blood boils at the condescending tone of his voice. Stepping right up into his personal space, she drops her voice to a menacing whisper.

“Listen closely, first, inmate 4587 is human being who, coincidentally, is set to be released tomorrow on a Presidential Pardon, so I suggest you show some respect and call him by his name. Second, _Oliver Queen_ was wrongly imprisoned and kept from his wife and child for _months_ only to be brutally beaten the day before his release. I know you don’t know who I am but trust me when I tell you I can make your life a living hell with a couple clicks on a computer and I will be _damned_ if you keep me from seeing my husband today.”

For his part, the guard has the decency to look at least slightly wary of her, but when Digg leans his head back across the barrier and says, “I’d get out of her way if I were you,” he steps aside, watching as Felicity struts through the gate, head held high.

Once past the barrier, a nurse points them in the direction of Oliver’s room. A few steps down the hallway, Felicity notices John is no longer with her. She turns back to find him hovering in the entrance of a family waiting area. She raises a questioning eyebrow and he smiles sadly.

“I’ll wait here for now. Go see your husband, Felicity.”

A tear runs down her cheek at his thoughtfulness and she hurries back to give her big brother a hug. Placing a peck on his cheek, she whispers, “Thank you,” in his ear, turning back to scurry down the hallway.

Felicity finds a nurse station and stops, hoping to get directions to her husband and instead running into more roadblocks. After 10 minutes of arguing that she is Oliver’s wife and she should be allowed to see him, she has resorted to begging and is on the verge of tears.

“Please,” she implores, tears pooling in her eyes. “I haven’t seen him in months and he is hurt. Just a minute. I'll stay in the hallway. I just need to see him.”

A kind-faced woman in a white coat appears from down the hallway. She notices the tension and switches directions, heading their way.

“What’s going on over here?” she asks, shooting Felicity a sympathetic smile before turning to her nurses.

“Dr. Jenkins, can you please explain to this woman that only authorized visitors are allowed in this area of the prison?”

The dark-haired woman, apparently the doctor, turns back to Felicity, giving her a once over and lingering on the distressed look on her face. “Who are you here to see, dear?”

“I’m here for Oliver Queen,” she sniffs out. “I’m his wife and I was told he’d been badly injured. I’ve been in the witness protection program so I’m not his emergency contact but…he’s my husband.”

The older woman smiles warmly at Felicity before turning to the nurses. “Oliver Queen is set to be released on a Presidential Pardon tomorrow. I think we can make an exception for his wife considering his medical condition, don’t you?”

Her tone leaves no room for argument, and the nurses all nod in silence. Dr, Jenkins turns back to Felicity. “Right this way, my dear. I do believe its time you’re reunited with your husband, Ms. Smoak.”

“It’s Mrs. Queen, actually,” Felicity corrects.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Oliver has told me a lot about you, and I thought I remembered him mentioning that you didn’t take his name. I must've been mistaken.”

“I didn’t at first. This is new. Oliver…he doesn’t know yet. You…you know Oliver well?”

“Ah, well unfortunately your husband has spent much more time in the medical ward than I would’ve liked. It’s given me the opportunity to get to know him though, and for that I am grateful. This is it. You can go on in.”

When the door to Oliver’s room opens, Felicity stops, all of the air leaving her chest. He looks worn, older and the sight of him lying broken in a hospital bed has the tears finally spilling over.

The first thing she notices is are the bruises – he is covered in more black and purple splotches than she has seen on him in a long time. There is a gash across his eyebrow, sewn up with stitches, but what really makes her pause is the hollowed look of his cheek bones.

His face is gaunt, giving him a malnourished appearance and it’s then that she notices the rest of him. Even through the sheet she can see how much leaner he is. Gone is the softness he gained in fatherhood and marriage, replaced instead with the hard muscle she remembers from when he first came back from the island.

As her eyes roam back to his face, she takes in his hair, too short for her to be able to run her hands through, too short to tug on. The scruff she loves to scrape her nails across has been replaced by a full beard, and she finds that she wants to run her fingers through it, understand this new texture she’s never experienced on the man she loves.

“Is he…” she trails off, half unsure what to ask and half afraid of the answer.

Dr. Jenkins gives her a pitying look. “He took quite a beating. I was able to watch the security feed to make sure I didn’t miss any injuries. From what I could tell, about 15 men ambushed him in the showers. I couldn’t see all of it because the cameras are angled to give the inmates a bit of privacy, but at one point he went head first through one of the tile walls. One of the men picked up a shard of ceramic and stabbed him in the abdomen. He lost consciousness pretty quickly after that. They just left him there. A guard found him about 15 minutes later lying in a rather large pool of blood.”

Felicity’s hand flies to her lips as the doctor relays the story, trying in vain to hold in her sobs and gasps. “I don’t…I don’t understand. He’s taken on that many men before. Didn’t he fight back?”

It’s question that has been burning in her mind since the moment John told her. Oliver is the most skilled fighter she’s ever seen. He’s beaten much deadlier adversaries than the men he personally put in prison. How did he come out the loser in this fight?

“I can’t be certain, but Oliver came in for me to remove some sutures earlier in the week and when I asked about the pardon, he told me he couldn’t wait to get home to his family and he couldn’t do anything this week to jeopardize that. No more fighting, even in self-defense. He didn’t want to give anyone any ammo to use to try to keep him in here. I reminded him that he needed to take care of himself, so he could get home in one piece, but it appears my advice didn’t stick.”

The moment the meaning of those words sinks in, she chokes out an, “I’m sorry I need a minute,” before finding the bathroom in the corner of Oliver’s room and locking her self inside. She collapses against the inside of the door and finally lets herself break down. She cries all of the tears she has, then wipes her face and ventures back out into the room.

She finds Dr. Jenkins has waited patiently for her, understanding her need to deal with the fact that her husband chose to take a beating a from 15 men because he was afraid to jeopardize his chances of seeing his wife and child again. “I’d like to fill you in on his condition,” the doctor states calmly, testing the waters to see where Felicity’s head is at.

When the younger woman nods, the doctor continues. “The stab wound missed all of his vital organs, and I think we got him a blood transfusion soon enough that the blood loss shouldn’t prove to be much of a problem. Physically, he doesn’t look too bad. At first, I thought it was a miracle, but then I realized that a fighter of Oliver’s caliber would be able to defend himself without actually hitting back. When I watched the film, I noticed that he anticipated their moves and he was able to make sure most of the blows landed in harmless places.”

That all sounds like good news, but Felicity’s life has been hell for four months and she knows better than to think good news would come without bad. “What I’m most concerned about is his brain. As I mentioned before, he went head first through a ceramic tiled wall and that is incredibly concerning when it comes to his mental functioning. Based on his physical condition, I am very confident that Oliver will wake up and be just fine, but I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t tell you that I’m not once hundred percent certain. The man who wakes up may not be the man you remember, and I think you should be prepared for that to be a possibility.”

She turns to leave, but Felicity reaches for her hand. “Thank you for being so kind to Oliver while he was here. I can’t imagine many showed him that level of kindness and I am so grateful to know he had at least one friendly face here.”

“Oliver is good man. He did not deserve to be here…I know it’s not my place, but for what it’s worth, you should know how much he loves you. I’ve known a lot of men in my years, and I have never met one that talked about a woman the way that man takes about you. From what he told me, he’s made plenty of mistakes but…don’t give up on him just yet. He is one of the good ones.”

“He really is. Thank you, and I won't ever give up on him, you have my word.”

When Felicity finally works up the nerve to move closer to Oliver’s bed, she discovers he looks even worse up close. Somehow though, beneath the hollowed cheeks and the bruises, her husband is there, still as handsome as ever.

She runs her fingers through his beard, feeling the softness, a direct contrast to the sharp feeling of his usual scruff. Leaning down to place a gentle kiss to his cheek, she whispers in his ear, “You’re always getting into trouble aren’t you, mister?”

With a chair dragged next to the bed, she holds his hand and cries, her lips pressed against his ring finger where his wedding band ought to be. “You have to wake up, okay?”

A knock sounds and Diggle walks in to check on them. “I’m sorry I didn’t come and update you, I just…I couldn’t leave him.”

“It’s okay, Felicity. Dr. Jenkins came and filled me in on how he’s doing. She thought you’d probably be otherwise occupied. How are you?”

“I’m…okay, I think. I’m so worried about him, obviously, but…I can’t tell you how much peace I feel just being in the same room as him again. It’s like my soul missed him, and even though I can’t talk to him, some deeper part of me has finally found relief in just being near him again. I’m sure that sounds cheesy and ridiculous but…”

“I know exactly what you mean. When I went back oversees and Lyla was here I felt the exact same way. I’m going to leave you two alone, but I picked something up before I left home that I thought you might want.”

He reaches in his back pocket and pulls out first her wedding band and then Oliver’s, placing them gently in her hand. The weight of them in her palm brings her comfort, and she gives John a grateful smile as he turns to leave.

Tears fall as she pockets the metal circles in her hand. She wants nothing more than to slip hers on, feel the comfort it provides, and then slide the larger band onto Oliver’s long finger but she truly doesn’t know where they stand, and she needs to talk to him first. She broke his heart and she doesn’t know what the fallout is going to be.

Oliver wrote her constantly in the months he was gone, poured his heart and soul out on paper for her to read. Of course, he couldn’t send them directly to her, but he mailed them to John and Digg brought them by the safe house once a week. She read each and every one.

Written in his signature neat scrawl, he told her how sorry he was, how much he regretted what he’d done. He told her that he was depressed and lonely, told her of the nightmares that had come back without her cuddled up next to him. He told her how much he missed her, how much he loved her, how he’d do anything just to spend 5 more minutes with her.

She read each and every one, but not once did she write him back.

Felicity had been so angry. She was upset with Oliver for leaving her out of his decision and so she ignored him. Still he wrote, one letter each week without fail.

Until he didn’t.

At some point, her silence took its toll on him. He continued writing to William, who was writing him back weekly, but the letters to Felicity became more sporadic and less heartfelt. The last letter she received simply thanked her for working to get him pardoned. At the bottom, there was area he had scribbled over, a sort of P.S. after he signed his name. With a quick trip to the lair, she was able to see what he had written and then decided not to say:

_I miss you so much, baby. I love you more than you know, and I can’t wait to come home to you._

It was then that she realized what she had done. In the midst of her anger and bitterness, she had convinced him that what he had done was beyond absolution. Her silence had made him think the worst: that he no longer had a place to come home to, that she didn’t want to be loved by him anymore.

The revelation left her sobbing in the kitchen floor until William found her, comforting her in that innocent, matter-of-fact way he had. Of course, Dad was coming home, he loved them both, where else would he go? But her son didn’t know what she had done, didn’t know that she had broken his father’s heart piece by piece over the last weeks.

It was too late to write him back, to tell him how much she loved him, how she missed him so much it hurt, that she wanted nothing more than for him to come home to her. His release was in less than a week and the mail would never get to him in time. So, she counted down the hours until she could hold him again and make him understand that no matter what mistakes he made, he was still the _best_ thing that had ever happened to her.

She couldn’t be so lucky. Instead, she was leaning over a hospital bed, praying to anyone who would listen that her husband would come back to her. She would never forgive herself if she didn’t get the opportunity to tell him how important, how _loved,_ he is.

At some point, her sadness over takes her, and she falls asleep with her head on the edge of his bed, still gripping his hand like it’s her lifeline.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Movement underneath her head rouses Felicity from a fitful sleep. Her cheek is snuggled into Oliver’s upturned palm, the tips of her fingers brushing his. A tickle on the end of her fingertips is what jerks her fully awake.

Her head flies up, and both of her tiny hands take hold of his large one, hoping against hope that he is okay when he wakes. His hand squeezes hers and she tears her eyes off their joined fingers just in time to meet his eyes.

His lids are only half open, his gaze glazed over and disoriented, but in that moment, she knows she has never seen a more beautiful color than the striking blue of his eyes. He takes in his surroundings with a furrowed brow, until he finally notices her sitting in front of him. He takes her in and she watches in horror as the confused expression on his face falls away into one of disappointment.

“I’m dead,” he whispers, seemingly to himself.

“What?”

When he realizes she heard him, he clarifies, “I’m dead, but I’m not sure yet if this is heaven or hell. Are you an angel come to give me my greatest desire or a demon come to show me the love that I have lost?”

“You…you’re not dead,” she tells him, unsure of how to proceed with this unusual turn of events.

“Of course, I am. Felicity wouldn’t be here if this was real. She…we’re not…” his sorrow-filled voice trails off, unable to finish the thought effectively shattering her heart.

Felicity leans in slowly, placing her hand on his cheek. His eyes close for just a minute as he relishes in the feeling of her skin against his. “This is real, Oliver,” she whispers gently, causing his eyes to slide back open again.

“I’m here, baby. I’m so sorry I didn’t come sooner and I’m sorry I didn’t answer your letters, but I’m here now. I love you, Oliver. I was so angry with you, but none of that matters anymore. All that matters is that I’m here and you're safe. I love you and I want you to come home. Okay?”

He watches her for a long time, taking her in. He’s looking for something – what, she’s not sure – but eventually he must find it because he squeezes his eyes shut before slowly opening them again and meeting her eyes.

“Felicity?” he whispers, and she can tell he’s afraid this is all some twisted dream.

She wraps her free hand around his wrist, bringing his palm up to lay over her heart so he can feel its rhythm. “I’m here, Oliver. I’m here and I’m not going anywhere, not ever.”

He chokes out a sob as tears begin to run freely down his face. “You mean that? This…us… _me_ …you want that?”

“You are a hard-headed man, Oliver Queen. You are self-sacrificing, and you have a tendency to make decisions about what is best for other people without asking them first, but…you do it for all the right reasons. You aren’t perfect, Oliver, none of us are. You’re human, you make mistakes, you make me angry. But you have the biggest heart out of anyone I've ever known, and every decision you make, right or wrong, is to do what you think is best for the people you love. I was angry for a long time, but no matter how mad you make me, you could never do anything to make me stop loving you. I want you to know that. I’m here for the long haul.”

Somewhere during her speech, her forehead made its way to his and for the first time in months they are breathing the same air and it is _everything_.

“I am so sorry for what I did, Felicity. I know it doesn’t change what happened, but I have regretted that decision every single day since the moment I made it. I’ve missed you so much, so much that my heart physically ached. I love you more than anything. You are my everything and I want nothing more than to come home to you, if you’ll have me.”

A few of her tears trickle down, mingling with his own on his cheekbones. “That is all I have ever wanted,” she whispers against his lips as she kisses him softly. “I have something for you.”

She digs around in her coat pocket, feeling for the cool metal of their wedding bands. Taking his hand in hers, she slides the ring back into its rightful place on his finger, bringing his knuckles up to her lips for a kiss. She then places her own ring in his palm, allowing him to do the honors.

He takes her small hand in his much larger one and pushes the ring down to where it belongs. As the band finds its home on her finger, he follows her lead, bringing her hand to his mouth to kiss her ring. The moment his lips touch her skin, the last broken piece of her heart clicks back into place and she is whole again.

After months of refusing to learn to live without him, Felicity finally has the love of her life back for keeps. Tomorrow she is going to take him home to their son, so their family can be reunited once and for all, and maybe, once they get settled in, she’ll sit him down and tell him that their incredible, perfect family is going to get another wonderful addition. Until then, she climbs into the tiny hospital bed and snuggles up in the arms of the man she loves, home at last.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd love to hear your thoughts and feedback!
> 
> \------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> For those of you that are still waiting for an update on Above All Else, don't give up on me just yet. After I saw the season 7 trailer, I couldn't get this idea out of my head and I had to write it before I could even think about anything else. That being said, I am incredibly busy with school, and I want to make sure the story is not rushed. It's really important to me to finish it right. I have every intention of giving it the ending it deserves, so don't give up on the story!


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